The general population frustrates me. I swear people have no manners anymore. I can't count how many times today I called someone a jerk or had some sarcastic sassy remark, in my head of course.
I had a lot of errands to run today so Mister and I loaded up and headed out. I didn't even get to the first store before someone cut me off on the road. At the store people walked right in front of me only to slow down and get in my way. Pet peeve? People who stop in the middle of the aisle. It's like they don't think there is two way traffic. They stop and stand in exactly the right spot so you can't get your cart through. Same goes for people walking through the parking lot. Get over to one side or I will run you over. Who walks down the middle of a parking lot row?! I watched someone knock something off a shelf, look at it on the floor, and walk away. I wanted to say "Don't worry, you can borrow my integrity," as I picked it up. The guy who didn't open the door for me when I was carrying a car seat, the lady who saw me reaching for a box and took it for herself instead, the list goes on.
What ever happened to courtesy and common decency? The worst part is that most people aren't acting this way to be malicious. They're just idiots. And we're feeding them and letting them breed.
Gees, I'm crabby.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
One Carrot, Please.
Why do I feel bad when I eat? Not physically bad like I’m going to be sick. Mentally, I feel bad that I’ve just consumed any amount of calories.
I count every single calorie that crosses my teeth and track it all in a food journal. I read every single nutrition label before I purchase anything at the supermarket. I weigh and measure all my food before I eat it and count the number of slices of turkey on my sandwich without condiments. I consume about the same amount of calories in an entire day that most people eat by 11am.
Still, every time I eat I feel like I’ve done something wrong. Fat girl is eating again? What’s that, yogurt? You know how many carbs are in that? A granola bar? Are you kidding, that’s full of sugar. I don’t even drink real milk, not even skim.
I hate grocery shopping. Why should I spend money on food when I don’t enjoy eating it? I’m an educated medical professional and I fully understand how to balance my nutritional needs. I know that not eating enough calories will actually do more harm than good. I’m aware of the need for a healthy combination of diet and exercise in order to build lean muscle and burn fat and calories.
My scale does not understand.
My pants do not understand.
My self worth does not understand.
My calorie intake runs my life. It’s no way to live and it makes me unhappy. But I’m unhappy about being this size too. What’s a fat girl to do…
I count every single calorie that crosses my teeth and track it all in a food journal. I read every single nutrition label before I purchase anything at the supermarket. I weigh and measure all my food before I eat it and count the number of slices of turkey on my sandwich without condiments. I consume about the same amount of calories in an entire day that most people eat by 11am.
Still, every time I eat I feel like I’ve done something wrong. Fat girl is eating again? What’s that, yogurt? You know how many carbs are in that? A granola bar? Are you kidding, that’s full of sugar. I don’t even drink real milk, not even skim.
I hate grocery shopping. Why should I spend money on food when I don’t enjoy eating it? I’m an educated medical professional and I fully understand how to balance my nutritional needs. I know that not eating enough calories will actually do more harm than good. I’m aware of the need for a healthy combination of diet and exercise in order to build lean muscle and burn fat and calories.
My scale does not understand.
My pants do not understand.
My self worth does not understand.
My calorie intake runs my life. It’s no way to live and it makes me unhappy. But I’m unhappy about being this size too. What’s a fat girl to do…
Monday, October 18, 2010
Where Is My Caramel Frappuccino?
You know that McDonald’s commercial where they all say “My me time is when…” I’ve decided that me time doesn’t exist for moms. I have an ever growing list of things I want to do that will never get done because they require me time. Examples include painting my toe nails and catching up on missed episodes of Glee (which I wouldn’t have missed if I had me time in the first place). None of it HAS to get done. But it would be nice if I has just a few minutes to do something just for me, just because I wanted to.
Our household is backwards from the typical single income home. I work while my husband stays home with the baby. I love my job, but that’s what it is, a job. It’s not relaxing, it’s work. When I come home I’d like to wind down, maybe have a glass of wine, browse the internet. Instead when I come home I clean up a days worth of dishes and bottles, tissues and dog toys, start a load of laundry and dinner.
I also understand that The Captain has been at home all day with Mister and he needs a break. I was home with the baby all day during my maternity leave while The Captain worked. I get it. I completely understand and I am more than happy to kiss and squeeze my little boy after a long day. Taking Mister of his hands means I’m typically doing all of those household chores with a baby on my hip. It’s hard not to grumble and think “If I can do this one handed why can’t he?” And then I remind myself that it’s because I’m superwoman.
The Captain usually plays video games after dinner and I’m in charge of keeping Mister entertained until it’s time for a bath and bed. I try not to get frustrated because he’s had the baby all stinkin’ day and now it’s my turn. But I’ve been at work all day, it’s not exactly leisure. So how come The Captain gets me time and I don’t? Where’s my caramel frappuccino?
Our household is backwards from the typical single income home. I work while my husband stays home with the baby. I love my job, but that’s what it is, a job. It’s not relaxing, it’s work. When I come home I’d like to wind down, maybe have a glass of wine, browse the internet. Instead when I come home I clean up a days worth of dishes and bottles, tissues and dog toys, start a load of laundry and dinner.
I also understand that The Captain has been at home all day with Mister and he needs a break. I was home with the baby all day during my maternity leave while The Captain worked. I get it. I completely understand and I am more than happy to kiss and squeeze my little boy after a long day. Taking Mister of his hands means I’m typically doing all of those household chores with a baby on my hip. It’s hard not to grumble and think “If I can do this one handed why can’t he?” And then I remind myself that it’s because I’m superwoman.
The Captain usually plays video games after dinner and I’m in charge of keeping Mister entertained until it’s time for a bath and bed. I try not to get frustrated because he’s had the baby all stinkin’ day and now it’s my turn. But I’ve been at work all day, it’s not exactly leisure. So how come The Captain gets me time and I don’t? Where’s my caramel frappuccino?
Monday, October 4, 2010
There's No Place Like Home
Homesick [hohm-sik]
–adjective: sad or depressed from a longing for home or family while away from them for a long time.
This time of year is always especially hard for me to be away. I love autumn and everything that comes with it. I even love window shopping at this time of year because everything that the stores put out as seasonal merchandise is in my favorite colors.
But California does not know the meaning of autumn. There are no cider mills, no leaves changing color, no brisk air that makes me want a scarf around my neck. MacIntosh apples are rare and my pumpkin came from a grocery store parking lot. It’s just not the same. October hold something special in Michigan and I hate that I’m missing it.
Aside of not getting any hot apple cider and a wagon ride out to a patch of ripe for the picking gourds I miss my family a lot. My sister-in-law is having her baby shower soon and I hate that I won’t be able to be there. My niece is on the swim team and my nephew is playing his senior year of high school football. I’ll never see them compete. When I do get a chance to visit home my youngest nephew hugs me and then says “What’s your name again?” A good friend of mine is going through a hard time right now and I can’t be there to support her. “It’ll be ok” sent via text just doesn’t cut it.
Michigan may be at the top of the list for unemployment, the schools may be going downhill quickly, the housing market may be tanking faster there than anywhere else in the country, but it’s home. As much as we’ve moved I’ve never felt like anywhere else was home. Michigan is where my heart is and right now it’s broken.
–adjective: sad or depressed from a longing for home or family while away from them for a long time.
This time of year is always especially hard for me to be away. I love autumn and everything that comes with it. I even love window shopping at this time of year because everything that the stores put out as seasonal merchandise is in my favorite colors.
But California does not know the meaning of autumn. There are no cider mills, no leaves changing color, no brisk air that makes me want a scarf around my neck. MacIntosh apples are rare and my pumpkin came from a grocery store parking lot. It’s just not the same. October hold something special in Michigan and I hate that I’m missing it.
Aside of not getting any hot apple cider and a wagon ride out to a patch of ripe for the picking gourds I miss my family a lot. My sister-in-law is having her baby shower soon and I hate that I won’t be able to be there. My niece is on the swim team and my nephew is playing his senior year of high school football. I’ll never see them compete. When I do get a chance to visit home my youngest nephew hugs me and then says “What’s your name again?” A good friend of mine is going through a hard time right now and I can’t be there to support her. “It’ll be ok” sent via text just doesn’t cut it.
Michigan may be at the top of the list for unemployment, the schools may be going downhill quickly, the housing market may be tanking faster there than anywhere else in the country, but it’s home. As much as we’ve moved I’ve never felt like anywhere else was home. Michigan is where my heart is and right now it’s broken.
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